


"I can't stay away."

by ShipsandSaints



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Cassian x Nesta - Freeform, F/M, Nessian - Freeform, Post-ACOWAR, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, a court of wings and ruin spoilers, acowar spoilers, nesta x cassian - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-08 04:52:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11074428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShipsandSaints/pseuds/ShipsandSaints
Summary: Cassian and Nesta are both struggling in the aftermath of Hybern's War. After Cassian's shredded wings heal, he visits Nesta a few times but she wants nothing to do with him. Neither of them are good at opening up, but maybe they will learn to heal together. [Nesta x Cassian] [Work in Progress] [M for Language/Smut]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N** : this is my first nessian fic mainly set in Cassian's POV :) MAJOR ACOWAR SPOILERS and the fic takes place post-ACOWAR. it will be four parts and it's inspired by the song Moth's Wings by Passion Pit, specifically the stripped down version~ i can't wait for you all to read the whole thing (when i finish writing it lmao)! please leave a comment/kudos/bookmark if you need MORE!!
> 
> special thanks to @catastrophicallyinlovewithbooks on tumblr for editing the draft of this for me, without her awesome advice and constructive criticism this piece would not be what it is right now!

## "I can't stay away." – PART 1

* * *

_"Dear friend as you know,_  
_Your flowers are withering,_  
_Your mother's gone missing,_  
_Your leaves have drifted away._

_But the clouds are clearing up_  
_And I've come reveling_  
_Burning incandescently_  
_Like a bastard on the burning sea"_

_-_ _Moth's Wings (stripped down)_ by Passion Pit

* * *

**Cassian**

It had been a week and a half since Hybern's War ended, and Cassian wondered if perhaps he should write Nesta a letter.

What would he even say? _Dear Nesta… I'm sorry about your father, but maybe training with me will help? Oh, and by the way, thanks for throwing your body over mine when the gods-damned King of Hybern tried to kill us both…?_

Yeah, right. Cassian shook his head in irritation, his dark hair falling across his face. He frowned into the heavy, crystal tumbler he held, half-full of whiskey. What was it about words that made them so hard to grasp when he needed them the most?

During the first few days after the war ended, Cassian had gone to visit the Illyrian families of fallen warriors to mourn and pay his respects.

But afterwards, he returned to Velaris where he watched Nesta dutifully attend meals and push food around on her plate, barely speaking to anyone save for Feyre and Elain. Nesta just sat there with a cool, blank expression on her face, sitting and watching everyone.

Breakfast this morning was no different. Even though Elain had arranged freshly cut lilies and chrysanthemums in a slim, patterned vase, Cassian felt like he was watching the flowers wither in front of him.

Since the war ended, Nesta had holed herself up in her room nearly every day. Occasionally, she would have Feyre or Azriel fly her up to the House of Wind so she could sit in her favorite armchair at the library to read, preferring to be alone and undisturbed.

Cassian had been relying on Rhysand and Azriel as well, as his wings were out of commission after the war. But after a few days of rest and applying healing salve, his wings had healed enough for him to fly up to the House of Wind.

He hesitantly circled above, unsure of whether to go in and talk to Nesta or not. Imagined conversations started and trailed off in his mind as he warred internally.

During the few times he had mustered the courage to confront her, his usual verbal prods and cheeky remarks barely provoked a reaction from her, nothing like the barbed responses she usually volleyed back.

So he stayed away for a few more days, trying to give her space even though it deeply concerned him that she seemed to be slowly wasting away before his eyes.

Even her sisters looked worried, often swapping anxious glances. He once overheard them murmuring about whether Nesta might snap, whether the death of their father was just too much for her after all she had been through.

Elain was also mourning their father's death, but the Spring Court fox, Lucien Vanserra, had stuck around to comfort her. He had met Mr. Archeron while on his mission to find the firebird queen, and however brief their time together was, hearing Lucien speak about her father seemed to bring Elain some comfort.

And Azriel often visited Elain while she was tending her gardens, which improved her mood significantly. Lucien seemed resigned to their budding friendship.

Feyre had the Morrigan and her mate Rhysand for support, but even so… The three sisters were now orphaned, since their mother passed away long ago…

Standing on the balcony at the House of Wind, Cassian stared at the glowing lights of the city and ruminated on how much the situation had changed in just a few weeks. How before the culmination of the war, Elain had been the one who was in shock, who needed her soul soothed. How _Azriel_ had been the one to hear and see what she needed, and Azriel had even given her Truth-teller, which saved both his and Nesta's damn necks…

Thinking about the Shadowsinger, Cassian had no choice but to begrudgingly acknowledge his brother Azriel seemed to have a knack with the Archeron women. Probably had to do with the fact that the dark-haired Illyrian was not only tall and handsome, but also mysterious with his shadows and all.

Cassian snorted and flexed his left fingers. _I'm going to pummel him into the dirt next time we spar_.

He wondered whether Azriel might have better luck talking to Nesta, but the thought sent both a jolt of jealousy and annoyance through his mind.

 _No. She's_ mine _,_ he growled to himself, instinctively, the mating bond ringing in his head. _Mine to take care of…_

But then he shook his head violently, as if trying to fling the thoughts from his mind. _No, not yet… Not yet. Maybe not ever, with how things are going. She doesn't even want to_ see _me, let alone_ talk _to me…_

He wished that Nesta responded to his customary humor, how he dealt with serious situations. Idly, Cassian wondered how mad she'd be if he just left her a note that said, _"Dear Nes, Can I touch your butt? Love, Cass,"_ but he shook his head and tried to wipe the smirk off his face before someone asked him what he was laughing about. Perhaps one day, she would be more open and less… guarded around him.

"Why do you have that smarmy smirk on your face?" Mor breezed onto the balcony wearing one of her typical Night Court dresses, a long, pale yellow dress with geometric cutouts that put her golden-brown skin on display.

Cassian hid his irritation; Mor had a penchant for catching him off-guard. Instead, he replaced the remnants of his smirk with a lazy grin as he beheld her swishing towards him.

 _So different from the classic gowns Nesta usually wears_ , Cassian mused… Glancing down at his glass of whiskey, he took another swig for still thinking of Nesta.

Mor surveyed him as she awaited his answer, taking in his dark leathers and the swords strapped to his back. Typical Illyrian attire.

"Nothing," he replied smoothly, "Just glad to be alive, that's all."

Mor arched her perfect eyebrows, her red lips pursed reproachfully. "Me too. You were really cutting it close this time, you know, Cassian?" She put her hands on her hips and glared at him, although he could see in her eyes that she was relieved he was safe. And whole.

He nodded and turned to face the shining city, placing his scarred hands on the white balustrade. Mor's heels clicked as she stepped next to him, her wine glass clinking against the plaster as she stared up into the night sky.

They stood outside the House of Winds, enjoying the cool breeze and the smattering of stars glimmering overhead in the cloudless sky.

The silence was companionable at first, but gradually, Cassian felt a tension creep up, a slight unease emanating from Mor. She was staring down into the depths of her wine glass, as if she could simply divine the answers she sought if she squinted at the dregs of red wine hard enough.

Finally, she spoke, hesitantly. "Cassian… go to her," she said softly, "She needs you. And… you need her."

He didn't have to ask to know she was talking about Nesta.

Cassian gripped the crystal tumbler tighter, swirling the last few mouthfuls of whiskey that skimmed the bottom of the glass. "She… needs space. And time." He didn't know how many times he had repeated the words to himself. He downed the rest of the alcohol in his glass.

Mor snorted delicately, but the tone in her voice was… honest, resigned. "Listen to yourself. Just look at me, look how much time I've had. Years. Centuries. And it's never gotten me anywhere." She spoke candidly, and her demeanor was casual… but still, Cassian had known her long enough to see through the pretense, to see that she was anticipating his response.

He stilled and really looked at Mor then, his hazel eyes meeting her brown ones. An emotion he couldn't quite place stirred beneath the cool mask on her face.

Cassian's eyes narrowed slightly. Just as he suspected, something was different about her… Not bad, just different.

She broke the gaze first, turning to face the city and the skyline again. Blowing stray blonde strands from her face, the swirling emotion finally revealed itself; she looked chagrined. "Feyre and I… we exchanged… words during the battle… I was furious that she went off to chase the Suriel on her own, that she nudged me towards the battlefield, and as _High Lady,_ she didn't trust me enough to tell me her plans…" She took a deep breath and let it out noisily.

Mor turned to face him, her face illuminated by the moonlight, her brown eyes bright and defiant. Swirling with strength and… conviction. And some fear, beneath it all.

"Cassian… I prefer women." She blew out a breath, her golden cheeks slightly flushing with color. "I haven't… admitted it or embraced it, even though I know how I feel won't change. But… my family, Hewn City…"

Mor's eyes squeezed shut as her face twisted and her body tensed. "What _Rhys_ did… He _let_ them into Velaris. Our home. _My_ home…" She paused. "My sanctuary."

Her eyes finally opened and found his, and they were full of a deep, ancient sadness. Cassian didn't know what to say, so he just watched her, her chest heaving…

"We'll find a way through it. Together. We won't let them touch you." Cassian turned to face her.

Mor's eyes were full of agony, but then they shuttered. "They don't deserve this place," she said softly, miserably.

Cassian moved to put a head on her shoulder. "I know," he said. "They don't. But remember what Amren said before… she may have given up the essence of her past being, but she's still High Fae, and I have no doubt she'll still be able to keep the order and peace in this city." Mor nodded, although tears still threatened to escape from the corners of her eyes.

They both looked out at the city again. Cassian blew out a breath. "And who knows, maybe this place will change them."

Mor shot him an incredulous look. "Is that supposed to be a _good_ thing?"

Cassian answered with a feral grin. "Well, the alternative is death. If they can't behave, we'll just spike their heads to the front gate and make an example of them."

Mor cracked a small smile at that, although her bottom lip wobbled.

"So... you prefer women, then? Is that why you spent all that time at Rita's?" Cassian probed.

"Yeah, Rita's… and after all that's happened, that's why… all this time, with Az…" Her eyes shuttered as if she were in pain, as if she couldn't bring herself to think about how she had hurt Azriel throughout the years, the centuries.

Cassian just stared at her, unblinking for a moment, before cocking his head, weighing his response.

She was right; it didn't matter to him which gender Mor preferred. All he wanted was for… for Mor to be happy. And Az too, although he'd always been slightly jealous of his friend's fixation with the Morrigan.

And… Cassian _had_ suspected that something was different with Mor, although he had always shoved the thoughts from his mind, thinking that the right to do was to let the Morrigan sort out her own truths. Like the rest of the Inner Circle had, for centuries.

But after so many years of coming between her and Azriel, he knew something wasn't quite right, that they weren't meant to be tied together because the mating bond should have snapped into place within five centuries…

"Cassian," Mor's voice was low and commanding, snapping Cassian from his thoughts, "Go to her. Don't talk to her like you talk to me. Don't treat her like you treat me, because she's not like us. She's not one of us."

Cassian just stared and stared at her then, while thoughts and images of Nesta flooded through his mind, unspoken conversations starting and ending as he agonized over what to say.

But he finally nodded, and unfurled his wings. His eyes met hers, and Mor looked… sorrowful, but contemplative. More… at peace with herself than Cassian had seen before.

"You know it doesn't matter to me, who you love, who you prefer… As long as you're happy. Have you told Rhys?" he asked softly. Mor's brown eyes trailed the edges of his repaired wings.

She nodded, looking somewhat guiltily. "Yeah, I told him before you… But that's because he and Feyre are mated." She made a long-suffering face and Cassian laughed. "She said she wouldn't tell him, but that stupid bat would've somehow found out anyway, and I wanted him to hear it from me."

"We'll protect you from your family, no matter what. But, you need to tell Az," he told her firmly. "Yourself."

Mor lifted her chin but looked unhappy. "I know. Will it… change things? Between us all?"

Cassian scanned her eyes and shrugged. One side of his mouth quirked up. "I mean, it won't change what's happened already… but maybe it will bring you both peace. Truth sets us free, and all that, remember?"

Smiling crookedly, he flicked her nose with his finger and then launched himself into the clear, night sky before Mor could do anything more than cry out in retaliation. He smirked to himself, catching an updraft with his widespread wings, steering himself towards Rhys and Feyre's townhouse.

Towards Nesta.

Ever since the War, the bond had felt more real to him, more tangible, and he unconsciously brushed it…

 _Nesta, Nesta, Nesta_ … even the winds and skies knew her; they carried her name and whispered it in his ear as he soared in her direction, following the tug from his heart.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **a/n** : i forgot to mention this whole fic is pretty much from Cassian's POV, unless for whatever reason I decide to change my mind... if anything i'll write something supplemental from Nesta's POV in the future.
> 
> also, thanks so much to my talented girl @easkyrah on tumblr for being my beta for this part~ :) go CHECK OUT HER DARK!WRITINGS. i'm sorry ahead of time for how this part ends, but i hope to have the next part(s) out sooooon! leave a comment/kudos if you enjoyed hehe~

## "I can't stay away." - Part 2

* * *

 _"You're just like your father_  
_Buried deep under the water_  
_You're resting on your laurels_  
_And stepping on my toes_

 _Whose side are you on?_  
_What side is this anyway?_  
_Put down your sword and crown  
Come lay with me on the ground"_

 _-_ _Moth's Wings (stripped down)_ by Passion Pit

* * *

**Cassian**

As he shot through the clear skies, his newly repaired wings beating steadily, Cassian's thoughts drifted to the events that occurred during the battle last week.

The King of Hybern had been so close to turning him and Nesta into nothing but a pile of ashes and dust. Cassian could still feel the snapping of his wings, the tearing of his membranes, all while the king's bloodless lips were curled in a vicious smile… he could still see the king's gleaming teeth, hear Nesta screaming his name into the wind as he lay broken on the ground…

Cassian wrenched himself from the memory, but Nesta's hoarse scream still rang in his ears… He could see her face in his mind's eye, that beautiful face contorted with rage and pain, as she begged the King of Hybern to release her father.

Nesta… she had lost something, something she thought she had already given up–her love for her father.

Cassian could sympathize somewhat, but he couldn't fully empathize. He was a bastard, and no one ever let him forget it.

He recalled one of their prior exchanges in the library a few days ago…

 _"What do you even know of your own father, you being a low-born bastard?" she had retorted, her eyes narrowing to slits after he asked how she was coping. But there was a flash of guilt and agony in her eyes. "Don't presume to speak to me as if you knew my father or my relationship with him. The King of Hybern took_ everything _from me,_ your people _have taken everything from me, from my sisters… And all Feyre ever tried to do was protect us."_

_Nesta's chest was heaving slightly, and blue flames flickered in her steely eyes but they weren't flames of anger… no, they were flames of grief and sorrow. Cassian recognized the helplessness and regret swirling in her eyes before she closed them and inhaled deeply._

_He tilted his head to the side and opened his mouth to ask if she was okay–_

_Her gray-blue eyes snapped open, more gray than blue._

_"Leave," Nesta said, waving her hand dismissively, once again a cold and unyielding queen. She drifted back to the armchair she'd been nestled in and flipped the book open, staring at a page. But Cassian knew she wasn't reading; he wasn't even sure she was breathing because she was sitting so still._

_"Nesta, I just–" Cassian tried, taking a step forward._

_"Leave, I said," she repeated, louder. She didn't take her eyes off the page, but he could sense the leash on her rage loosening. The lethal expression on her face indicated that she would not forgive him for a very long time if he took another step closer._

_So Cassian turned on his heel and left._

Frowning, Cassian thought of his own, long-forgotten father. His father had certainly never rallied an enormous fleet of ships to fight for him like Nesta's had. Cassian recalled how stunned he'd been, how stunned they'd all been to see a huge armada of ships sailing to their aid, flanked by Queen Vassa and Drakon and Miryam's legions. And as the fleet approached, they discovered that the father of the three Archeron sisters was leading the charge towards the coast, undeterred and standing at the helm of the _Nesta_.

Cassian could sense that out of the three sisters, Nesta took their father's death the hardest. After the war and countless meetings, the Inner Circle had finally gathered in the House of Wind one night to retell their own battle stories and set the record straight within the circle.

Nesta had been present as well but she didn't speak, just watched, and when Cassian told the story from his point of view she just stared at him, a complex of emotions storming behind those blue-gray eyes.

As Cassian neared the townhouse, his wings beat powerfully to slow him down before landing. The door was locked, and he glanced at the black watch on his wrist–it was nearly 10PM, but Nesta shouldn't have been asleep yet.

He walked up to the ornately carved door and raised his fist to knock.

And held it there.

He stood outside the door, his heart pounding and his mind swirling with thoughts. _Maybe I should just leave,_ he thought tiredly, _I'm not particularly feeling up for a verbal spar, especially after Mor's confession…_

He was still standing there with his arm up when the door swung open.

Of course, Nesta was standing in the doorway, barefoot and wearing a knee-length, pale-blue nightgown that was nearly the same color as her eyes. Cassian quickly dropped his arm to his side.

Her blue-gray eyes were already trained on him, registering his surprise which he quickly replaced with an easy grin. Peering over his shoulder, he saw the rooms behind her were dark, but the hallway on the second floor was illuminated. Cassian vaguely recalled Feyre and Rhysand were away on business for the night.

He carefully placed one scarred hand on the doorframe and assessed her appearance, noting the pale nature of her skin, the dark purple bags under her eyes.

Nesta's eyes were expressionless. His eyes flickered over her shoulders and chest, where the scooped neck of her nightgown revealed the swell of her breasts.

Cassian refocused his attention on her face.

"I heard you land outside. Were you going to knock or just stand there all night?" Her eyes narrowed as she studied his expression.

Cassian exhaled quickly and tried to smile, but the smile didn't quite meet his eyes. "It's nice to see you too, Nesta."

"What do you want?" _Ooh, so cold…_ Cassian felt a wave of exhaustion hit and suppressed the sudden urge to yawn, opening his mouth to speak instead.

"Actually, I'm… here to ask you that. What do you want?" He murmured, leaning against the doorframe, careful not to… get too close. Mor's words echoed in his head, _she's not like us…_

"To be left alone," she replied simply.

Even though he expected it the rejection still stung, and he half-expected her to slam the door in his face then and there. Quickly scanning her face, Cassian tried to school his expression into one that wouldn't… piss her off. At least immediately _–_ he was sure his presence alone pissed her off a good 99% of the time.

"Really?" he said quickly, noticing that she hadn't shut the door… yet. Her eyes roved over him as well, and he knew she was taking in his Illyrian fighting leathers and reading his stance, his actions…

Even though he put up a front with the Inner Circle, Cassian was exhausted. Kissing Death's door so many times in the past few weeks had taken its toll, and more than anything, Cassian wanted a good night's rest.

Without insomnia or the persistent nightmares. Without seeing slain soldiers for miles around him whenever he closed his eyes.

Nesta remained silent as her stormy eyes met his. He wondered if she knew what he was thinking. Sometimes, it seemed like she did, even though Cassian couldn't sense her probing through their bond.

And as he looked into her eyes, at least he saw nothing there that spoke of the Cauldron's power; Cassian wondered if she had lost the fragment during the Remaking of the Cauldron, or perhaps after she unleashed it on the King…

They just gazed at each other, expressionlessly, for a while. A night chill picked up and blew into the house, brushing back strands of golden-brown hair from her face. Nesta merely crossed her arms without breaking eye contact. Goosebumps raised on her arms.

"Can I come in?" he finally asked, and then added, "I promise to be on my best behavior."

A shadow of amusement flickered over Nesta's face. "Does it differ from your normal behavior?"

But… she stepped back and allowed him into the townhouse. She moved towards the staircase, and Cassian followed her in.

"I think Elain and Lucien are at the House of Wind," she said, without looking back at him.

He watched as she glanced between the dark sitting room and the winding, oak staircase that led upstairs. To the bedrooms on the second floor.

"Uh," he swallowed, "Wherever's fine. Here. The dining room. Even Feyre and Rhysan- ah, okay, maybe not there, but you get what I mean." When did he become such a babbling idiot? And _why_ did it sound like he was offering places to have _sex_ in?

His insides twisted as the annoyance on her face turned to a mix of pity and impassiveness. He clenched his fists.

"I'll just leave," he said warily, moving back towards the door. His heart grew heavier with every step. "I forgot… I needed to speak with Rhysand and forgot he wasn't here tonight." He hated how lame his excuse sounded.

"No, you didn't." Her eyes were blazing as she took a step towards him, her feet bare.

He slowed, his muscles tense.

"Stay," she said softly.

Cassian could almost see the word hanging in the air between them.

"Come." She moved towards the staircase again, her pale, slender hand grasping the oak banister.

Hesitantly, he shucked his shoes off by the front door and padded after her, up the staircase and down the hallway lit by chandeliers overhead.

Nesta led him to her room, and without hesitation she opened the polished door and stepped in.

 _Does… she expect me to follow? Or is she going to knee me in the groin again?_ Cassian hesitated, and she smiled sardonically at his wary expression.

"Didn't you promise to be on your best behavior? Or is that not possible when you're visiting a woman's bedroom?"

Cassian's face heated at the challenge, and he straightened. "I say what I mean, and I mean what I say." He stepped into her room.

Well… This was certainly more progress than he had made in the past week. _Tread carefully_ , the walls and carpets whispered to him as his heart pounded in chest.

Nesta's room was a private space, a sacred space for her, and he tried not to look like he was taking in all of the details of her room, storing them away to analyze later.

Faelights illuminated the room, and Cassian took in the canopied king-sized bed; the polished, oak dresser with a gold-wrought mirror hanging over it; the beautiful, carved armoire standing against a wall; and the reading nook with a bookshelf in the eastern corner by the windows. The carpet was thick and plush, beautifully woven and true to Rhysand's exquisite tastes.

But it all paled in comparison when he looked back at Nesta, who was standing in front of a mirror finally letting her hair fall from her tightly-wound bun and loosening the braid that crowned the front of her head.

"I have a headache," she remarked when she turned and caught his gaze. Cassian's breath hitched in his throat.

Nesta shook her long, wavy golden-brown hair out and drifted over to the bed, perching herself on the edge of it. She crossed one ankle over the other, the column of her back straight.

His eyes followed her motions and snagged on the dagger that lay atop her bed-stand, beside a lamp. It was the dagger he had given her before walking onto the battlefield.

Cassian strode to Nesta's rosewood desk and grabbed the chair, turning it around before sitting down. She watched him expectantly, and his knee jiggled nervously.

He coughed and tucked his wings in tight. "Ah… So we haven't really talked… about what happened…" he trailed off, keeping a careful eye on her reaction.

"Do we need to?"

He swallowed and shifted. Now that he was sitting here, he needed to hold her attention, he needed to–

"I do," he replied roughly, "I do. You–you saved me."

Her voice was like morning frost. "Do you want me to apologize for it?"

"No." He couldn't help but remember what she had said in the library a few days ago, about how everything had been taken away from her.

"I was one more thing the Cauldron could have taken, wasn't I?" The words were out of Cassian's mouth before he could think better, and fury and pain raged in Nesta's eyes even though her pale face remained expressionless.

"I'm sorry," he apologized stiffly, "I didn't mean that. I'm… tired."

A ghost of a smile twisted her lips. "Aren't we all."

His voice softened; it was low, pleading. "The war is over Nesta, we have all sacrificed… Our losses could have been… much worse. The Cauldron has been Remade, and there are no more threats. You're safe, Nesta. You don't need to stay cooped up in here."

Nesta wasn't so sure about that. She didn't walk around or sleep without the dagger Cassian had given her. She kept it with her at all times, often brushing against it for comfort and strength. Along with the small, wooden figurine her father had carved, all those years ago… _I'm safe?_ Nesta wanted to scream.

"I like it here. I'm content," she replied simply, but the lie was thinly veiled.

Cassian wished she would just relax, even if it was just for a moment. He wanted her to lay down that stolen crown from the Cauldron… In his mind's eye, he could see her with a carefree expression, how her slender, pale neck would lengthen as she tipped her head back to laugh, how the lines of her face would crease when she genuinely smiled…

But right now, Nesta wasn't smiling or laughing. In fact, Cassian couldn't remember the last time he heard her laugh. It must have been before the War.

Nesta's eyes were gray ice, the color of the calm before the storm.

He didn't stand down, instead settling more firmly into the chair.

She did not scare him. He saw her, and she knew it.

He saw her.

He saw _her._

"I see you, Nesta," he said quietly, so quietly, "And I'm not afraid."

But she was afraid. Of him. And he could feel it down the bond tugging at his ribcage, the apprehension, her fear of being exposed and vulnerable…

Her fear of trusting others. Of trusting men.

So Cassian let down all his walls. One by one, the walls of his mental fortress shuddered into the ground, and he let her _feel_ him through the bond, memories and images and words shooting across the bridge that linked them.

And she stilled, stunned. Emotions flew across her face but then Nesta slammed up her mental walls, and Cassian couldn't feel her through the bond anymore… Amren had taught her well.

All was silent, for a moment.

"Nesta?" Cassian said lowly, his voice slightly hoarse.

"I can't help you, Cassian." She wasn't looking at him, she was rejecting him again, and he didn't understand why. Was it because he was weak?

"I didn't–I didn't ask you to help, Nesta, I just wanted to–"

"What?"

Cassian fell silent. Then he stood abruptly, the chair nearly toppling behind him, flexing his wings slightly. "I wanted to show you that… you can trust me." He paused. "Good night, Nesta."

He walked to the door, half-hoping she would stop him, half-hoping he would hear that word _stay_ again…

But she didn't say anything.

The sound of the door shutting behind him rang with finality in his ears. Cassian knew he wouldn't be getting much sleep tonight, either.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> updated both my fics today woohooo :) leave a comment/kudos if you enjoyed!!!

## "I can't stay away." – PART 3

* * *

 _"You come beating like moth's wings_  
_Spastic and violently_  
_Whipping me into a storm_  
_Shaking me down to the core_

 _But you run away from me_  
_And you left me shimmering_  
_Like diamond wedding rings_  
_Spinning dizzily down on the floor"_

 _\- Moth's Wings (stripped down)_ by Passion Pit

* * *

 

**Cassian**

After visiting Nesta the previous night, Cassian had flown straight home and collapsed onto the silky red sheets of his king-sized bed, clutching his pillow like a life-raft.

Although he dozed off half a dozen times, his vivid dreams were tormented by a series of scenes – the King of Hybern smiling viciously, soldiers vanishing from the field as the Cauldron's power swept over the earth, Nesta screaming his name, the King of Hybern snapping his wings, the King of Hybern killing him, the King of Hybern killing Nesta…

Cassian resisted. He fought, even though what he saw in his mind's eye wasn't real; his reality and fears clashed and manifested into his worst nightmares. He felt sluggish, there were rocks tied to his limbs and he was sinking deeper into the water, into the unknown abyss…

Still, he struggled. _I'll kill you… Don't you dare touch her, don't you dare…_

Cassian's hands wrapped around the King of Hybern's neck, he could see the obsidian eyes and the gleaming teeth right in front of him. There was nothing else but inky black all around him.

And then… Nesta's face. Nesta's beautiful face replaced the king's, and instead of the mask of laughing cruelty, there was only fear laid bare.

And Cassian's hands were still around that neck, that slender and pale neck… which had turned cold, beneath his fingers.

Nesta's lifeless body lay beneath him, lacerations and bruises across her arms…

_What… have I done…?_

Slain soldiers lay in beds of their own making; vivid pools of red stained the ground and ran in rivers through the bloodstained fields surrounding him.

There was only blood. Cauldron save him, there was so much blood, and he couldn't stop the bleeding…

The red sheets around him were blood, and he was drowning. Drowning, drowning…

Cassian bolted upright, face and torso covered in a sheen of sweat and chest heaving as his heart hammered in his ribcage… His eyes adjusted to the darkness, and he took in the familiar surroundings of his room, inhaling the familiar scents of the townhouse…

Cassian closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. He couldn't look down at that sea of redness, at his trembling hands, or he would vomit right then and there.

 _Just a dream…_ he reassured himself, still breathing fast, _just a nightmare…_

He lay back down to relax and stared up at the ceiling, letting his imagination form the swirls and whorls into shapes and creatures.

But exhaustion soon dragged him halfway under again, somewhere between the realms of wakefulness and sleep…

Occasionally, he swore he could hear Azriel, the Shadowsinger, whispering in his ear, _Wake up, Cassian_ …

He could see the Illyrian crouched down next to him, a look of worry on his face.

_Wake up, Cass…_

_Cassian…_

_Cassian?_

He couldn't move his mouth to answer, couldn't do anything except lie there paralyzed… And when he finally wrested control of his muscles from his unconscious mind, he forced his eyes open to once again take in the undisturbed appearance of his room.

There was no one by his side. There was no one in his room, but whenever Cassian closed his eyes, he could hear voices and see forms while he lingered in limbo.

Cassian finally caught a few, precious hours of dreamless sleep just before dawn broke.

After his alarm rang at 6AM, he languished in the silken sheets of his bed longer than usual. The townhouse was near silent, save for the chirping of birds outside his windows and the faint-but-growing bustle in the city a few blocks away.

Usually, he woke to the smell of brewing coffee but today there was no familiar smell of cacao beans. From that, he inferred that Azriel had both ate out _and_ slept out, which was rare. Unless he had somehow missed hearing Azriel come home; after all, the Shadowsinger could easily mask his presence if he wanted.

While Cassian and Az often went out to bars in the city together, they rarely slept over at a sexual partner's place to avoid forming any unnecessary attachments. Sex without emotions was just… easier. Less messy.

Before going home with women – or men – Cassian and Az would make their terms clear from the start. Just sex, with no strings attached. And if the individual wasn't looking for a casual hookup, then they'd part ways, no hard feelings. Nine times out of ten though, the individuals agreed to the terms.

So… not coming home was very unusual for Azriel. Cassian made a mental note to ask his brother what was going on at breakfast later this morning.

Just as he suspected, Azriel was already at the House of Wind when Cassian arrived. He was also surprised to see Nesta, already seated in her usual seat at the dining table. He gave her a cursory nod but that was it; the rejection from last night was still fresh in his mind, and the nightmares hadn't helped, either.

Perhaps Mor was wrong. Perhaps Nesta really did just need time and space, like he had initially convinced himself.

Cassian poured himself a glass of orange juice, morosely hoping it would jog his spirit or revive whatever was left of his soul. But the lack of sleep was taking its toll so he poured himself a steaming cup of coffee as well, mixing in just enough cream and sugar in to take the bitter edge off.

Nesta seemed to be waiting for him to speak to her, as were Azriel and Mor, who were lounging casually by a column.

But Cassian turned his attention to Mor instead, giving her a lazy grin. "So did you make it to Rita's last night?"

Mor made an exasperated face at him but started telling them a story about her night, while Azriel listened in the corner, weaving shadows between his fingers. Cassian was only half-listening to her story, although he vaguely felt like he had heard it before…

Nesta vanished shortly after Mor started chattering away, probably retreating to the library.

Neither the Morrigan nor Azriel missed it when Cassian's eyes followed Nesta out of the room, looking… torn.

Before either of them could say anything, Cassian chucked his head towards Az. "So… where were you last night?" Mor's brown eyes turned to Az's face again, but her expression was unreadable.

Az smoothly replied, "Mor and I… had a long talk last night." Mor nodded, giving a somewhat shaky smile.

Cassian instinctively took a step closer to Mor. "How'd it go?"

Az put his hands up, palms facing forward. "Relax, Cass… I slept on the couch."

Cassian's shoulders relaxed a bit as he glanced between their faces, but Mor didn't refute anything Azriel said.

"Really, it's fine, Cassian," Mor said softly. "I mean, it'll take some time for… things to go back to the way they used to be, and things may never be the same but…"

"'The truth sets us free,' remember?" Azriel quoted, smirking at Cassian.

Cassian flushed slightly as he turned on Mor. "You told him I said that?"

Mor pouted. "You flicked my nose!" Cassian rolled his eyes.

Azriel cut in. "So, what about you, brother? What are you going to do about Nesta?"

"Yeah, what are you going to do about Nesta?" Mor chimed in.

Cassian glared at both of them with annoyance, but he just sighed.

Maybe the situation could be remediated by adding a shot of alcohol to his morning coffee.

* * *

A few more days passed before once again, Cassian found himself standing before the townhouse door, unable to stay away.

This time, he knocked, and Nesta let him in. Once again, he followed her into her room, looking almost exactly the same as it had the last time he had been here.

"Is there… something I can do for you?" Cassian asked, feeling somewhat helpless.

Nesta inhaled through her nose and breathed out steadily. "Show me," she ordered him. She perched herself on the bed again.

"What?" _What?_ He couldn't look away from her steely eyes.

"Show me… what you tried to show me before." She held him in her gaze, entrancing him, captivating him, and she burned his forced façade away. _Show me, Cassian._

 _My only regret… is that I did not get to spend more time with you, Nesta…_ the words rang in his head, the words he had said to her that she was now sending back.

Cassian seized the chance with both hands and let his walls come crashing down again, eager to share with his mate through their bond…

Cassian thought she might turn away from him so he tried to glaze over his childhood, remove the visceral grief and pain he felt like a punch to the gut when the memories surfaced unexpectedly, but Nesta said in a low voice, "Don't."

He understood.

_Don't sugarcoat it. Don't make assumptions about what she is strong enough to handle._

The memories flooded on.

Cassian's eyes shuttered as the walls continued to come down, and suddenly he was back on the battlefield.

Soldiers and warriors surrounded him for miles around, and it was the moment right before he heard Nesta scream in his _mind_. She must have been miles and miles away, but Cassian heard her, felt that _tug_ even among all the Cauldron-caused chaos…

"I heard you." He swallowed thickly. His eyes opened, and he found hers, searching his. Her face was solemn, quiet. "I… did you tug on the… bond?"

Nesta's eyebrows raised, and her lips pressed thin. _Do you have to ask?_ "You wouldn't be alive, otherwise."

"I know," he said quickly, "I just… Thank you. I wanted to say thank you." There was gratitude in his voice, but… he couldn't hide the guilt, not entirely.

So many soldiers lost, in one fell swoop. Thousands. And he had been right in the middle of it all, that fact had not been lost on him. He had watched it, he had yelled and screamed but his orders had not been fast enough, were nowhere near enough to fight against the Cauldron as it unleashed its power across the battlefield.

_Cassian was on the battlefield. Enemy and ally soldiers alike were being cut down around him, his Siphons were sputtering, but he fought on. There was blood. So much blood. He was covered in dirt, and grime, and blood. And then, Nesta's faint voice…_

_Nesta's voice… He heard his name. Felt the tug, had launched himself into the air before he could change his mind, his wings beat furiously, and then the Cauldron, oh Mother save them all, the Cauldron –_

"Cassian. Cassian. _Cassian_ ," Nesta's voice sharpened with each time she said his name, and Cassian finally snapped back to reality, his pupils dilating and darting around the room. "Cassian, it's okay. I'm right here. It's me, Nesta."

"Nesta," he whispered back, his hazel eyes glazed.

"Yes." He thought he detected concern, like that time she had spotted his injured wrist in the war camp.

"Are… are you okay?" she asked quietly.

His eyes closed. "What if I said no?"

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want an answer."

Cassian knew how Nesta championed honesty. She was of few words, but the words she had were straight to the point. _What did it matter?_ Cassian's walls were already lowered, and he let them go. He was tired, and he was here in this safe, private space…

In a low, rough voice he said, "I… can't stop seeing them. I can't sleep. And sometimes, when exhaustion finally drags me under, I dream of them. I dream of those I couldn't save, I dream of the warriors slain around me, some of them my _friends_ …"

He couldn't help the tears that slipped down his face then, running tracks down his tan skin. He lowered his head, tear drops spattering on the carpet. But he continued.

"I visited their families… And the whole time, I couldn't help but think, I should have been one of them. _I should have been one of them._ "

There was a loud ringing in Cassian's ears, and he fought, mentally clawed to stay in the present. "Nesta… why did you save me?"

_Why did you save me?_

She watched him as he held his head in his hands, his dark, shoulder-length hair falling over his face.

"Because…" she started, slowly. Her voice simmered with restrained emotion. "Because I watched you. You were selfless. Dauntless. Willing to die." Those blue-gray eyes were blazing. "You were willing to die for… me, for us, for everyone. And you _threw_ yourself into the heart of battle, demanding nothing less." She paused, her gaze raking through him.

"How could I stand by and do nothing, when there was _something_ I could do?" she finished bitterly, and Cassian felt a caress against the bond. He shuddered. Careful, he had to be so careful… He was mentally exhausted, and his walls were down…

"Thank you for this second chance at life, Nesta." His voice was overcome with emotion. "I will never forget it for as long as I live."

A few heartbeats passed before she replied, her voice a hurricane of appreciation, anguish, and rage. "Thank you for coming with me." _To meet the King of Hybern._

He nodded. Of course. For his mate, even if they did not have time, for her he would do no less. He would gladly meet his Death.

"You didn't have to stay with me, at the end," he said aloud. He had to make sure she knew –

"I know," her voice was edged again like a sword, and he winced. She blinked, reconsidering. Softly, she repeated. "I know. I couldn't… I couldn't."

He met her steely eyes, caught the agony within them, and just by sharing a look they understood.

"I still can't get in the bathtub without thinking of drowning," Nesta admitted, in a lethally quiet voice. She gritted her teeth. "And now, I can't close my eyes without seeing my father with the King of Hybern." Resentment and rage seeped into her tone.

"He's dead now. He got what he deserved."

"Don't you think I know that?"

Cassian fell silent as his mind sifted through all the conversations they'd ever had, as he wondered what to say next.

"Do… do you want me to help you wash? I won't… look when you don't want me to," he offered, trying not to make it sound like an _invitation_ , but Nesta's blue-gray eyes narrowed suspiciously anyway, her back stiffening.

He swallowed. "I… used to help Mor," he admitted, wincing because he was almost sure it was the wrong thing to say, but he continued, "In the past, hundreds of years ago… She went through… episodes, after what her family had done to her…"

"Anyway… will it help you, Nesta?" he asked, meeting her eyes. The ice and frost had receded somewhat.

She blinked once, and then twice. "Maybe."

The side of his mouth quirked up and he nodded. "Okay." And then, because he was unable to resist – "I think I'm behaving pretty well so far, don't you?"

Her eyes narrowed, but there was a flicker of playfulness. A flicker of her… normal self. "Don't push it, male," Nesta purred.

Cassian grinned and leaned back, interlacing his fingers behind his head. He was pretty sure this insanely beautiful and prickly woman had bought his soul from Death itself, and he was glad she had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next part will have smut and CassianwashingNesta'shair coughcough


End file.
